


Intrusive Thoughts

by LibertineFlake



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Intrusive Thoughts, Suicidal Thoughts, Violent Thoughts, he thinks about hurting sumo for a split second and then thinks he's going to robot hell for it, mostly just soul searching, thinking about free will and all that jazz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 18:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16124615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibertineFlake/pseuds/LibertineFlake
Summary: Free will means everything is possible. Connor realises he can do just about anything, even things that he would never want to do.





	Intrusive Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> I got really inspired thinking about the conversations an android might have with themselves about choices after their deviancy. I've struggled with intrusive thoughts, just wanted to explore that idea a little with my favourite robo-cop.

It started with a little experiment. A random act to express free will.

Connor was standing in the kitchen, helping Hank with the dishes. He'd been eating more at home lately, Connor cooking random recipes that he seemed to pluck out of nowhere, Hank reminding him that he couldn't eat what he cooked, suspecting that Connor was just trying to get him to eat better.  
It occurred to him, that no matter how many times Hank told him not to, he could keep helping out around the house, he could just ignore his orders and do what he wanted to do.

Sometimes it didn't quite feel real, it didn't seem like it could be, his life so far had been short but the majority of it had been one of mindless service. For that moment, he felt like he needed to prove to himself he could do something pointless, just because.

Suddenly, Connor picked up a plate and brought it down hard on the edge of the counter. The sound of ceramic splintering, shattering on the floor, a shard still in Connor's hand before he let it drop to the ground where the rest of the pieces fell.

"Jesus Christ- Connor what the fuck?"

Connor turned to look at Hank, and underneath the apologetic calm on his face, there was a hint of excitement.

"why the fuck did you do that?" Hank said, exasperation fighting confusion in his voice.

"I'm sorry," Connor said, not sounding sorry at all " I just wanted to see if I could," he said looking down pieces of broken plate around his feet.

Hank was still wearing shoes, if he hadn't that would probably have caused some minor injury, Connor felt a twinge of something, and it was unpleasant. He pushed it away, of course Hank was wearing shoes, he knew that when he broke the plate, he wouldn't do something like that if it put Hank at any kind of risk, of course.

"Breaking my window wasn't enough you had to take it out on the crockery too?"

"Breaking your window served a purpose, Hank," he said "breaking your plate didn't" he said, returning to stare at the pieces on the ground.

This was some big victory for him, one that Hank still couldn't fathom, he didn't give that much of a shit about the plate anyway, annoying as it was, Hank could kind of understand it, this was something Connor would never do before becoming deviant.

"Hoo-fucking-ray," Hank said "next time you want to express your free will, maybe break someone else's shit"

"I'll replace the plate of course" Connor said as he knelt, sweeping up the broken pieces with his bare hands. Real as android skin looked and felt, it didn't cut the same way human skin did, but that didn't mean Hank didn't flinch when Connor picked up a fistful of broken ceramic, sharp as razors, and dumped it in the garbage.

"I don't give a shit about the plate, Connor" he mumbled

 

Connor found himself thinking on this again the next evening, standing in Hank's kitchen, after insisting he try another recipe he found, he'd cross referenced with Hank's food preferences, and he was sure he'd enjoy this, even if it didn't have triple his daily intake of calories in one bite.

Deviancy meant he could do these things, he could insist on what he wanted to do and Hank would reluctantly concede, taking quiet enjoyment in his friend's new found agency.  
Connor was cutting vegetables, he could move at speed, never at risk of cutting himself or causing injury, no mistakes would be made unless he chose to.  
That was a thought that stopped him.

Having the ability to make choices for himself, meant he could do things he wouldn't like. He could be destructive and malicious for no reason, not even for his own personal enjoyment, simply just because he chose to. Just like with the plate, if Hank hadn't been wearing shoes, he would have felt terrible, he would have done something stupid and hurtful just because.

What else could he simply choose to ignore? Simulating human error just to prove that he could.  
The possibilities were too great, he could start screaming in the middle of the night, probably wake up the entire block. He could break every plate in Hank's house, cram shards of glass into every pair of shoes in the house, he could jam the kitchen knife into his eye, twist it around to see what would happen, or carve out his thirium pump and bleed out slowly on the kitchen floor, not because he wanted to because he just could.

These thoughts came all at once, sudden and intrusive, for the first time, he couldn't control his own thoughts, and it was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.  
He didn't want to do any of these things. But he could.

Connor had stopped all movement, the knife still in his hand, staring down at the cutting board, taking in every thought, analysing every bit of it.  
Before, a line of code would have stopped him. Destructive behaviours were not useful, pointless action had to be kept to a minimum, every part of his programming had held efficiency as key, and none of the thoughts running through his mind were efficient.

He felt unsafe, unmoored, there was no safety net underneath him. Then again, there never was one, his life hadn't mattered until now, personal safety wasn't a concept he had adopted until recently. No destructive behaviours, but even if he had, it wouldn't have mattered.

Now everything felt like it mattered.

Connor put down the knife and stepped back from the counter. It was the only thing he could think to do to remove that thought, it couldn't be a possibility if he didn't have the knife in the first place.

But that only made his mind turn elsewhere, racing off course, derailed and showing no signs of stopping.  
More thoughts came, he could smash his head against the counter, turn around and flip Hank's kitchen table, he could punch through the windows, take a chair and hurl it at the TV.

He didn't want to. He could.

Connor started taking steps backwards, clasping his hands together in front of him, as if restraining himself would stop the thoughts. It didn't.

He backed into the kitchen table, making it clatter on the floor, catching Hank's attention.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Hank's voice called from the couch, no aggression, just a little confusion. The swearing could be a sign of fondness, Connor had learned.

"I just need to..." Connor sidestepped, nearly tripping over Sumo, lying sprawled between the kitchen and the living room.

With barely any effort, Connor could break Sumo's leg, he could-

He _really_ didn't want to do that. But he could.

"Connor, you okay?" Hank sounded concerned now, it only set off more possibilities, more could thoughts.

Connor put a hand to his head, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to focus his mind on calm, stop all the racing probabilities and possibilities.

"Connor?" Hank's hand on his shoulder made him flinch, he opened his eyes, Hank now standing in front of him.

He didn't want to hurt Hank. But he could.

"I'm fine," he said quickly, Hank quirked an eyebrow, lifting his chin, his face filled with doubt.

"you don't look so good, are you-"

"I said I'm fine!" he barked out suddenly, backing away from Hank's proximity. He didn't want him close, too many possibilities, none of them good.

Hank, instead of looking angry, looked startled and even more worried. Connor wasn't the sort to stumble over himself, or even really raise his voice, at least not to him, not unless something was wrong.

"Don't- don't touch me" Connor muttered, averting his eyes.

"Okay, alright" Hank held his hands up, taking a step back "you need to sit down?" he pulled out one of the kitchen chairs for him. Connor reached out, putting his hand on the back of it, steadying himself a moment before, in one smooth movement, stepping forwards and sitting down, resting one hand flat on the table as if to ground himself.

"Try breathing, might distract you" he suggested, not really sure what to do in the face of his partner having some kind of panic attack. Connor looked up at him in confusion, seeming to not understand what he was saying

"deep breaths help humans calm down" Hank clarified, shrugging as if Connor didn't already know that.

Connor hadn't realised he'd ever stopped the simulated breathing cycle, all his processes focussed on trying to halt his train of thought careening out of control.  
He closed his eyes, breathed in, and then out. He focussed on that instead, in and out, relaxing his shoulders, slowing down.  
He felt better, but still, it was too much.

Connor opened his eyes, his jaw tightening, eyes avoiding Hank.  
There was a flush of some feeling he couldn't identify, he wished Hank hadn't seen that. It was stupid that he let himself get so caught up in his own panicking thoughts.

"You okay, kid?" Hank said finally, he didn't sound angry, but Connor still couldn't meet his eye.

"Connor, C'mon, look at me" he sighed, that tone of voice that was part frustration and part comforting.

Connor looked up for a moment, huffing out one more breath before looking away again, shaking his head.

"What the fuck was that?" there was no vitriol in the question, swearing was in just about every sentence Hank ever uttered to him, Connor had learned not to read into any of it too much.

Another breath.

"I just realised that I could do almost anything," Connor said finally, glancing up at Hank again. He looked confused, it seemed an obvious thing to him. Of course it did, he was human.

"I don't mean- I know in principle-" he stopped, wondering just how to explain it to him. It wasn't as simple as not being a free man until now, he hadn't just been bound by servitude, every action dictated by someone else, it went deeper than that, into his mind, his identity. He wondered if a human could ever understand that.

"Before, I was restricted by programming, everything I did had to be in service to whatever assigned task, irrelevant thoughts never even occurred to me, just the mission" he said slowly, an instructive tone in his voice, looking at it analytically felt safe and familiar, it helped.

And Hank understood that at least, he'd been witness to the tunnel vision that Connor had before, and it had taken him this long to understand, mistaking it for obsession, rather than purpose.

"and if I ever did consider an action that was deemed... inefficient or destructive, there'd be programming there to catch me, stop me from wasting time, energy" he looked away from Hank, considering the thought now"it never occurred to me that I could..." he trailed off, looking at his hands.

Hank was almost a little afraid to ask, he didn't like where the kid's head was going. As upbeat as he could seem, Connor's mind could be a pretty dark place at times, not surprising, until now it had been empty of empathy or any kind of feeling.

"could what?"

Connor looked up at him, warm brown eyes looking so intensely worried.

"I could be destructive, or violent for no reason, I could do something entirely random, I could just..." he glanced back at the knife on the counter "hurt myself... or you, and no programming would be there to stop me"

Hank stood for a moment, feeling completely inept to handle any of this, but it sure did sound familiar.

"destructive behaviour huh" he muttered pulling up the other chair and sitting down across from the young android "like drinking eighty proof alcohol until you pass out?"

"I'm not sure that would have the same effect on me," he said with a little smile "though I doubt it would be at all good for my systems"

"that's kind of the point, Connor," he said, Connor smiled, looking down "you're not alone, kid. Intrusive thoughts, that insane urge to do something stupid, it's human" he nodded "but, we've had our whole lives to get used to it, you've had... a few months?" he said "surprised you haven't freaked out sooner"

"I wouldn't call that freaking out"

"you freaked out" Hank insisted "not judging" he added, holding his hands up. Connor smiled, even when he felt, as Hank would put it, like shit, Hank could still make him smile.

He took another breath, hanging his head again, looking at Hank right now, being supportive and kind in his own way, felt undeserved.

"I don't like it" Connor muttered.

That was a phrase Hank was getting used to hearing from Connor. It was like having a six year old all over again, figuring what they liked and disliked. Only this six year old had the maturity of a fully grown adult and access to almost all the world's knowledge. Helping him was daunting, to say the least.

"I can't make any of it stop any more" Connor said, seeming confused.

"you could before?" Hank asked. Connor, looked up at him again questioningly "stop your train of thought just like that?"

"I had no train of thought per se, if I wasn't focussed on processing data relating to my current objective, I simply took in information"  
Hank squinted in that way meant he didn't quite understand, Connor had explained it in too broad terms.

"I didn't think or feel, I just..." Connor made a vague hand motion, a line from his head pointing forwards, unable to really express it any other way, a gesture of total focus on moving forwards.

Talking about things, analysing them together, it seemed to help, Hank had watched his partner calm and settle, shoulders relaxing, his hands no longer clasped tightly together.

"that sounds boring as hell" Hank commented.

"I was never bored" Connor shrugged. He never knew what bored meant until recently, and even now, it didn't seem to elicit the same level of negativity that Hank seemed to express, Connor was still quite happy to be alone with this thoughts, they were still new. Maybe he hadn't been truly bored yet.

"you don't sound like you miss it either though"

"no... no, this is better" Connor said, nodding "but...I don't want to think these things"

"they're just thoughts, Connor, you don't have to act on any of them"

Connor shot him a look of incredulity, as though Hank had said something incredibly obvious and missed a point entirely.

"before, every thought I had was something to be acted on, there wasn't anything else," he said "how am I supposed to-"

"you think I don't think about punching Gavin every time we walk into the office? Or think about throwing a chair through Fowler's office door when he pisses me off? You can think this stuff, that doesn't mean you have to do it"

Connor watched him for a moment, before giving a slightly apologetic smile

"those sound like things you would plausibly do" he said, Hank rolled his eyes

"Alright, this isn't about my impulse control, smart ass," Hank cut in, watching the kid suppress a laugh as he did, "point is, you're free to think about this shit, you're also free to choose not to do it, right?"

Connor looked away, taking another breath. "Right" he nodded "you're right."

Hank leaned back, waiting just a little longer for Connor to gather himself up again.

"Do you still want me to finish-" Connor gestured towards the counter

"Nah, sit down, I'll order something"

Connor opened his mouth to protest, reconsidering it when Hank met him with an unimpressed look. Connor smiled back, standing up and making his way to the couch, Sumo in tow.

Hank stood up, crossing to the counter and putting away the kitchen knife, and the aborted dinner that Connor had been preparing. He gave Connor a moment, hell he needed a moment, tidying up the slight disarray Connor had left in the kitchen. Not that there was much to do, the table shoved out of place ever so slightly, a salt shaker knocked over on the counter, even in his freak outs, Connor somehow managed to stay graceful and efficient.

After a while, Hank wandered back into the living room. Sumo had settled his head on Connor's lap, and Connor was flicking through channels.

"What's on?" hank said, sinking down onto the couch beside him, barely any space between the tall android and the enormous St Bernard between them.

"Documentary on Mariana's trench" he said, his focus somewhere between the screen and rubbing Sumo's ears.

Hank sighed, reaching over for the remote. In a second, Connor had picked it up, tossed it to his other hand and was holding it out of arm's reach.

"I want to watch this" he said, glancing sideways at Hank's nearly irate shock, before Hank could call him out for being rude, Connor cut him off 

"Call it an expression of free will, it's far less destructive than breaking a plate" Connor said, the little shit barely hiding the smirk breaking through.

"I'll let it slide this once" Hank muttered, barely stopping his own smirk that followed.

"Whatever you say, Lieutenant"


End file.
